


All In

by Paian



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Backstory, Blow Jobs, Card Games, Episode Related, Episode: s07e21 Lost City (1), First Time, M/M, Missing Scene, Romance, Season/Series 07, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-27
Updated: 2006-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paian/pseuds/Paian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another 'Lost City Part 1' interlude, in which cards are laid on the table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In

**Author's Note:**

> Art by Kuwdora [here](http://pics.livejournal.com/paiani/pic/000xkshy).

"So, the lateness," Daniel said, collecting the deck that had scattered around coffee table and couch like an explosion in a card factory when a tipsy Carter tried to learn one last trick from Teal'c. "That was a one-foot-out-the-door thing, or what?"

Jack, back from locking up after the departed guests, picked up two cards lying at his feet. Most of the cards had sprayed all over Carter. Daniel had looked at her for a beat or two, then said, "You are bedecked." That was when Jack had employed "and on that note" and kicked them all out. Well, not the general; Hammond eased himself out, with his usual graciousness, taking Teal'c with him. And Daniel hadn't let himself be kicked.

Jack said, "I didn't have one foot out the door yesterday morning."

He passed the two cards to Daniel without looking at them. Daniel turned them over. His head bobbed up in a silent _huh_. He shuffled them into the other cards without displaying them to Jack, but Jack had caught a glimpse. An ace and and eight. Half a dead man's hand.

"So the lateness?" Daniel persisted.

"Was lateness. I was late. Shit happens." Jack leaned down again, this time to snag the last Guinness in the last six-pack, which had been next to the chair he'd brought out for Hammond.

"You're a high-ranking, profusely decorated military officer," Daniel said. "You roam around the base looking like you just woke up and pretending you don't have a desk, you beat on subordinates until they _stop_ saluting you and you make an art form of subtle insubordination, but you are always, precisely, on time for wherever you're supposed to be."

"And your point is?" Jack was trying for indifference, or maybe -- well, he didn't know what, but he'd had just enough stout to give his firelit living room an extra warm muzziness, and he had a head full of stuff he didn't want in his head and it had been a long night and a longer couple of days and he was tired and he didn't want to duel with Daniel right now. What he really wanted was to ease down next to him on the couch and just sit.

"I was pissed," Daniel said, conversationally. Picking up the cards, one by one, and shuffling them in. "I was excited about the find and it was important and you dawdled with clear intent. But then Hammond gave you the tardy-pupil treatment and I started to wonder if it was something else."

"Tardy cadet," Jack corrected. God, he was tired. He just wanted to sit next to Daniel. Just sit. Just be. He took a swig of stout instead. "Shoulda told me to drop and give him fifty."

"Mm," Daniel said. His voice rose and tightened slightly as he strained down for a handful of cards that had gone under the table: "But pushing the boundaries with him wasn't what it was about."

"It wasn't about anything," Jack said. _That_ should have come out sharp, or at least irritable, but it came out weary.

"What I'm wondering is whether you would have perpetrated this lateness anyway, and if so why, or whether you had one of your presentiments of doom after I called you."

"Pre_what_iments?" Jack said, because that was what he did.

"When you go 'I have a baaaad feeling about this,'" Daniel said -- explaining what he knew Jack didn't need explained, which wasn't something he usually did.

"What are you trying to _say_, Daniel? I don't have one foot out the door. If I make it through this thing, which I have every intention of doing, it's back to business as usual. OK, with big honkin' space guns, and civilian oversight, and won't _those_ go well together ... but otherwise, whatever. Onward and upward."

"OK," Daniel said. He'd collected almost all the cards. He'd go pour the last of the coffee for himself now, vacate the couch long enough for Jack to sink down into it without it being a thing, so it would be Daniel's choice where to sit when he came back.

Daniel said, "So, are you going to sit down? If standing there is an implicit request for me to leave, I'm ignoring it, so you might as well."

Something coiled in Jack's belly, an electric chill very much like the thing that had coiled in his belly yesterday morning when Daniel called, the thing he wouldn't admit that Daniel had exactly right. Presentiment. A funny feeling about where this was headed. Not a bad feeling, though, except that believing what you wanted to believe instead of what stared you in the face on a daily basis was usually a bad idea.

He sat down on the couch, because he wanted to, because in a second Daniel would get up to pour more coffee anyway. He sat to Daniel's left and kept the bottle in his right hand and laid his left arm along the sofa back and took another pull of stout. It was time to redirect the conversation, but he didn't have the oomph. It felt good to just sit. Just be.

Daniel set the reassembled deck of cards on the coffee table and squared the edges with his fingertips, once each way. "All I'm saying is, if you ever toyed with the idea of laying the cards on the table, now's probably a good time."

Too tired, too soft inside for _I don't know what the hell you're talking about_, Jack said, "Now or never, huh?"

He could see Daniel's ear pull back slightly as his unseen brows pulled up. "Well, no, I hope not that. I mean, you will make it through this. Every intention."

"Then why is now a good time? If it's not the whole brain's-been-hijacked, matter-of-time-before-my-nervous-system-craps-out thing."

Daniel shrugged. "The bullshit about struggling with the crossword, I guess. The come on your bedspread, which I flipped over when I went to the bathroom by the way." His head turned to one-quarter profile, showing a gentle flash of smile. "Just my voice on the phone is enough, huh? Even when you're drowning me in the sink?"

The electric chill coiled tighter and colder and spread a liquid icy heat downward. With soft, helpless, weary exasperation, Jack said, "How the _hell_ do you guess this stuff?"

"You don't guess exactly the same things about me?" Daniel asked, in a light tone of genuine inquiry, squaring the sides of the deck again.

"I do," Jack said. He hesitated, then thought _screw it_ and said: "And then I write them off to wishful thinking."

Daniel nodded, calmly, as if their whole world hadn't tilted. "Sensible," he said. "Safe. I try to do that too, as a general thing. But then there's day-old come on your bedspread."

"Yeah, well. Thanks. For turning it."

Daniel rested his elbows on his knees and swirled one card around the top of the deck with a fingertip. With the slow care he used in deliberations, negotiations, he said, "I don't know if it's the frat regs or don't-ask-don't-tell or if it's just not part of your orientation. Or if it's just me; I realize that's possible too. I also don't know how much you're really aware of about me, whether you discounted your own intuition or not. So I just want you to know that I've always been available to you. That's all, I guess."

"Just wanted to get that clear," Jack said, in echo, summary, confirmation. Daniel nodded, and Jack said, "In case _that_ was the reason? That I thought you might say no?"

Again the pull of scalp, the shift of ear, brows rising over eyes on the far side of Daniel's head. "Yeah."

"Because I'm too much of a gentleman to push in where I'm not sure I'm wanted, or because I'm afraid of rejection?" Jack asked.

"You've never let fear of failure stop you from doing something you were sure of. That I've ever seen, anyway."

"So, gentleman."

"Well, yeah. Or too military, down deep, to break a regulation that serious, or too responsible a team leader to risk skewing the dynamic. Or, you know, just not that interested."

"Interested but not interested enough," Jack said, echoing again, prompting -- buying time while he let it settle into him.

"Yeah." Daniel leaned back, suddenly, smoothly, and relaxed into the back of the couch. His lips had a vague smilingness. From this angle, mostly peripheral vision, he looked ... content. "So, there. That's a relief. For eight years I've wanted you to have that piece of information and I could never find a way to deliver it. I know this isn't about me, and I promise to let it drop now. But ... thanks."

"Thanks?"

"For listening. Logging the datum. That's all." He rolled his head and looked directly at Jack. Just plain old ordinary Daniel. No expectations, no resentments, no baggage, nothing. It had bothered him, this unresolved thing, this missing letter in the crossword, this one card that didn't square up with the rest, and now it wouldn't bother him anymore, and he was happy. "Are you going to want coffee? I'll make another pot."

"Daniel -- "

"Really, Jack, don't. It's OK. Happy now. Shutting up now. Killing the coffee dregs now, but I'll make some fresh if you -- "

"It didn't occur to you that I might _react_ to this information?"

"Of course," Daniel said, stopping halfway through a roll to his feet. "I know you're reacting, and I know you're going to want to keep it to yourself, and I'm fine with that."

"You're not curious? You're curious about everything. Everything in the universe."

"I'm curious," Daniel said. "And it's none of my business, and that's OK." Gently, firmly, smiling without fully smiling, he said, "Coffee, Jack?"

"Nah," Jack said. "I'll just enjoy the buzz 'til it's time to sleep."

"'K," Daniel acknowledged, and rolled standing, and headed around to the kitchen. Jack got up and moved the hearth screen and poked the fire a little, decided not to feed it any more wood. Went and sat back down, leaving his bottle on the coffee table next to the deck of cards. Daniel returned palming his old, chipped mug and sat down next to Jack -- easily, thoughtlessly, as if it were nothing, as if he belonged there. "I turned the machine off."

"OK."

"I'd like to sleep here, but I'll go once I've got this coffee in me, if you'd prefer that."

"Stay."

"OK. Thanks."

There was a long stretch of quiet. A couple of pops from the fire, a soft collapse of one log into embers, the deep soothing calm of just sitting, just being, beside Daniel. "With me," Jack said. "In my bed. Unless 'available' doesn't mean 'want.'"

"It means want," Daniel said. "Bad idea, though."

"I know. Then again, if there's audio I'm already busted."

"You know there isn't or you wouldn't have let the conversation go where it did. It's a bad idea because it compromises your command whether or not anyone else knows about it."

"You believe that?"

Daniel thought about that for a long time. "Actually, no," he said. "I think your command was compromised a long time ago, with all three of us, no matter which ones you want to sleep with."

"That is a euphemism, right?"

"Yes. Have sex with. Or sexual contact. I ... "

He hadn't faltered; he'd just stopped. "Finish," Jack said.

"I don't know what you want, or if you even know what you want. Don't interpret that as a question, it's a statement."

Jack leaned forward, took a long pull of beer, put his bottle back on the coaster, and then leaned back, twisted toward Daniel, with his right elbow on the back of the couch. "I want you. Next to me. In my bed. As few clothes on as possible, as close as you're willing to be." That was it; that was his "what I want" manifesto: he wanted Daniel beside him. He also wanted to leave it at that. But Daniel needed more from him, and Daniel wasn't going to ask, and he'd spent too long not giving Daniel what he needed. So he pushed the rest out. "Very early in my career I did the mutual-assistance thing, manual and oral, but it crossed too many wires I needed to keep uncrossed to stay in the service, and risk isn't a sexual turn-on for me. Male bodies are. I've effectively suppressed that for twenty years, but I'm aware of it and it isn't a fantasy, it's a plain fact. Your body, because it's hot as hell and because you're in it, is an intense turn-on for me. I want whatever I can have with you. I don't _think_ I want it; I want it."

Daniel was smiling, not so much with his mouth but with his eyes, and with a kind of affectionate wonder. "That's ... very clearly said. Thank you."

"Didn't think I had it in me."

"Well, you know how to make succinct, to-the-point reports, but ... OK, no, I guess I didn't."

"Are there lines you're not comfortable crossing? 'Cause I'd rather hear about them now. While we're on the subject and all."

"What do you mean? Like, do I only top or bottom?"

"Yeah. Or neither."

"Both," Daniel said softly. "I've always wanted both, but I never trusted anyone with that kind of ... access to my body. I've never been penetrated, for real. Fingers and sex aids, yes, but there was never anyone ... Anyway, no, no lines. Not with you." He flashed one of his eyeblink smiles. "I'm an anthropologist, did you really think there would be lines?"

"I have lines," Jack said quietly. "A line. Pain. It doesn't arouse me and I won't give you that even if it's something you need."

He saw something register in Daniel's eyes before his gaze dropped. A dinged nerve. "It's not," he said. "I do get aroused by bondage porn. Certain types, anyway. But it's not something I like for real."

"Tried it?" Jack asked, not trying for casual.

"Once. In grad school. It might require kind of a lengthy explanation."

"OK," Jack said, and this time he saw surprise as Daniel's gaze flickered back up. "I want the whole sexual history," Jack said. "I'm interested. I'm curious. I care. I want to know. I'm also ... jealous. So maybe not right now."

"There's nothing to be jealous of," Daniel said in a very low voice. "Believe me."

"OK. Possessive, then. No right to be, but there it is."

"No right," Daniel said, with a breathy, ironic laugh, and let his head fall back against the sofa and his eyes slide closed. "God, Jack. I've belonged to you since the first day we spent on Abydos."

"Yeah," Jack managed, after a minute. After the surprise passed, and the triumphant growling unrepressible _mine_; after the strange, old hurt had surged and receded, what this said about roads not taken, the wives they'd loved, they way they'd thought, back then, their lives were going to go -- the heartbreak this would have caused then, and the heartbreak that happened anyway. "Me too."

Daniel's eyes opened slowly. "So," he said. "Bed?"

"Bed's kinda far," Jack said, mesmerized by sprawled, relaxed Daniel, by the bulge he'd had in his slacks for a while now, by the pale contours of smooth neck and chest where his light spring shirt was open. Daniel radiated arousal like heat, but he looked content, happy, to be on Jack's couch, next to Jack. Jack took the coffee mug out of his hands, to set on the table, and Daniel let him. Jack put his fingers on the first closed button of Daniel's shirt. "Can I?"

"The answer is always yes," Daniel said, and rose up just slightly, toward Jack's touch, an involuntary response, as Jack slipped the button out through the hole.

"I might keep asking," Jack said, moving down to the next button.

"OK," Daniel said, and again that slight rise of chest toward Jack's fingers. "I'll keep answering. I don't mind."

Three more buttons and the shirt was open. Jack drew the sides softly apart, one and then the other, and Daniel arched just a little, with the slightest of sounds. When Jack brushed the pads of his fingers over a nipple, Daniel's eyes slid closed again and his skin flushed from navel to throat. Jack shifted, and bent his head, and touched his lips to the other nipple, pricked up to a point from the lightest touch of Jack's fingers on the first.

"Wait," Daniel gasped. "Wait."

Jack lifted hand and mouth away. He couldn't help a smile. "I haven't done anything yet!"

"I know." There was laughter in Daniel's voice. His hands were moving to his fly.

"Hey," said Jack. "I was gonna do that."

"OK," Daniel said, and stilled his hands, but it sounded doubtful.

"You're really ... ?"

Daniel gave a rueful nod. "Maybe I haven't made clear enough how long it's been or how much I wanted this."

"No, I, ah, I get that." Daniel's smell was intoxicating, and the sight of him bared like that, lying back, flushed and bulging. "God. Daniel." He took a breath. "How about we nix the couch thing and just go come all over each other in my bed?"

The flush ran up Daniel's neck. But he said, "Bed's kinda far."

"Open those then," Jack said, a little gruff. "Pull it out for me." He watched Daniel's hands undo his fly, watched his abs contract as he lifted up to push two waistbands down, watched him reach in and down to the right for himself. The hard dick he drew out into the air was, literally, beautiful. Smooth, pale, gently curved, so that when he laid it on his belly it made a small arch. If he shot now, he probably wouldn't cream much higher than his ribs. Jack already had thoughts about experimenting with that trajectory.

He put his left hand on it, and lifted a little, warm and gentle, a caress of his thumb over soft-skinned head. Daniel made an _nnngggh_ sound through his teeth and clawed the sofa cushion.

Jack lowered his head and fed it into his mouth.

Daniel came in a gasping contraction, doing half a sit-up, kicking the coffee table. Inside Jack's mouth it was an explosion, ballistic force and flavor so sharp it wasn't so much flavor as sensation. Jack had never swallowed before; he got some of it down before he choked on it, but some got past him, and it took him a second to pull his tongue and his lips out of shock and start using them. He rubbed with his tongue and moved his lips through the slick drenching, and moaned without meaning to because it felt like an orgasm in his brain. All of it seemed to keep Daniel coming, and vague thoughts swam through Jack's head, wordless concepts of _don't know what you like, so much i don't know about you, suck hard or ease off can't see your face can't tell_.

Daniel's hand had groped to his shoulder and was squeezing and rubbing, hard reflex, he knew that reflex, and he tightened his forgotten fingers and jerked in a fast, slick jiggle. Daniel groaned "Yeah, anghhh, _unnh_" and fisted Jack's shirt and froze, trembling, while his cock gave a last spurt against the roof of Jack's mouth.

Jack went still, senses alert -- as primed as when his life was at stake, _that_ primed -- waiting for the next message from Daniel's hand or voice or body. Jack went hypersensitive when he finished coming and needed to be released right away, but Daniel whispered, "Oh, god, don't stop, suck me."

The last two words set Jack off inside his sweats.

He groaned around Daniel's cock, trying to suck while climax spasmed through him, trying not to jar teeth into Daniel or claw him; he slammed one hand down on the base of the couch, gripping hard wood through the upholstery. Daniel was moaning in surprise and a kind of vicarious arousal and gripping his shoulder, and the circular feedback was more erotic than any sixty-nine Jack had ever managed.

He was still half-coming while Daniel softened. He loosened his mouth to let out the sounds he'd been holding in, and finished with Daniel's soft penis draping the inside of his cheek. When he had some control back, he closed his lips gently around the sweet limpness and gave the barest of sucks, some gentle pushes with his tongue. Daniel breathed "Oh my god" and his hand slid away as his body melted into the sofa.

Through the endorphin high and the ache of tender affection, Jack felt another triumphant, possessive surge, and a glow of victorious pride.

After a while, Daniel murmured his name.

Jack pulled off in a light slide of lips, but stayed where he was. "I'll keep doing this," he said, and added a tender lick-suck to the soft head. "Don't lie if you like this. Just tell me. All night if you want." He sucked again, softly -- it really felt unbelievably good, a swell of tenderness that he was trusted to be gentle, trusted with something this intimate -- then drew off again. "I love this, Daniel."

"It's enough," Daniel said, and stroked his head. "More later, OK?"

"Yeah. OK." He pushed up, stiff and awkward, with a soft kiss into Daniel's belly, and got his hip back on the sofa and swung his legs around and slumped sideways so the back of the couch supported his head. "It wasn't the greatest position," he admitted.

"It was OK before you _went off_," Daniel said, laughing gently, flopping a hand over against Jack's chest.

Jack took the hand and rubbed his thumb down into the crease of palm, affectionate and easy. "Surprised me too," he said. "Maybe watch it with the 'suck me's for a while."

"That's what it was? 'Suck me'?"

Jack's groin contracted and he swallowed, hyperaware of the coating of come in his throat, the rub of cotton against his spent package, the gooey load in his shorts. "That was it," he confirmed.

"Judicious application from here on out," Daniel promised.

His tone was vague, as if the words were coming out mostly on automatic. Jack figured it was surprise at the affectionate hand thing. "You really don't know," he said. "What you mean to me. Sex or no sex."

"I'm starting to get an idea." Daniel closed his hand around Jack's. "You know it's mutual."

Jack almost said _I know_, but he didn't, really; he was starting to, but it was too new, an hour ago he hadn't known for sure that the thing between them wasn't just the oddball friendship it seemed, and he'd spent so long refusing to believe his own eyes, his own senses, that the adjustment left him a little dizzy. It was like a deck of cards spraying out of his hands after years of tricks, sleight-of-hand, keeping it all so close to the vest that even he never understood that he held a winning hand but unless he showed it all he had was a few pieces of laminated paper and some information and a whole lot of nothing. "Starting to," he said, at a loss for how to articulate the slew of feeling, the transforming perspective. Not as simple as you'd think, to jump into bed with a ... whatever Daniel had been all this time. Friend, teammate ... wrong words. He didn't have the words. And they hadn't even made it to the bed.

After a minute, he glanced up, a little shy of eye contact, and said, "You always shoot that hard, or you've been lax in the masturbation department?"

"I shoot that hard when I'm intensely, out-of-my-mind turned on," Daniel said. "I shoot that _much_ when I haven't jerked off for a while because I can't do it without thinking about this guy I work with and things are complicated enough between us without me crushing on him."

"_Crushing_?" Jack said, feeling a grin pull at his face.

"Uh-huh," Daniel said, his own face lighting with a smile that stayed this time, humor dancing in his eyes. "Angst-ridden, adolescent, 'dear diary he touched my knee today!' crushing. Very juvenile and embarrassing. Don't tell him, OK?"

"You don't think he knows you're alive?" Jack said.

"That, I think he's probably figured out at this point."

Jack grinned, suddenly. "You can wear my varsity jacket any time you want."

"How many letters?"

"Four."

"Football, baseball, hockey, and ... ?"

"Baseball, wrestling, judo, and history. Football's a good way to blow your knees out. I played hockey for fun, but the league politics were bullshit and I needed time for flying lessons."

_"History?"_

"They gave academic letters, what can I tell you."

_"History?"_

Jack shrugged, genuinely embarrassed. "I liked to read about wars. I didn't like the class that much, I think I just tested well. I liked math and English a lot better but I had to work at those."

Daniel started to say something, then huffed, and flopped back. "I'm lying here half naked with my postcoital dick hanging out of my pants having an orgasm because you liked history in high school."

"I liked math and English. I _read_ a lot of history."

"And you tested well. Yeah." Daniel was shaking his head, smiling. "Maybe we should get into your bed now. I don't know what'll happen if you start talking about your master's."

"My bachelor's means nothing to you?"

"Can we talk about this in bed?"

Jack wanted to shower first but Daniel talked him out of it, mostly by pushing Jack into the bed once he was naked and licking the crystallized come off as if it were sugar. Daniel got hard again while he was doing it, but Jack couldn't, and he was hovering on the edge of sleep. Fighting it, because his skin was rippling with pleasure and he _had_ this now, he had what he'd wanted for year after year and in a few days he might be dead and he didn't want to lose a second of this.

Daniel pulled the covers up over them and lay on his side with one hand on Jack's belly. "Let it go," he said. "I'll still be here when you wake up."

"Should get you off first," Jack said, halfway into sleep.

"This erection will still be here when you wake up too."

"But then it'll be tomorrow. One day closer."

"You need to sleep. So do I." Daniel hesitated, then reached up, ran a hand gently over Jack's brow, fingers threading through his hair, palm smoothing down the side of his face. "Is this OK?"

It was more than OK. It was sublime, to be touched like this. "God, yes. Why wouldn't it be?"

Daniel didn't answer, and through the leagues of drowse Jack heard the answer in it, the complicated assumptions about what Jack would tolerate from him and what he wouldn't.

"I left something out," Jack said. He meant that he'd been clear about sex and about closeness but he'd failed to mention the important part, the only part that really mattered.

"Tell me when you wake up," Daniel said.

Jack tried to tell him anyway, tell him now; he tried to roll and push into Daniel's arms, find his mouth. But he was asleep.

He woke up on his face, one arm asleep under him, Daniel sleeping quietly on his side, next to him but not touching, arms curled up in front of him. Relief spilled through him like liquid; he'd been that sure that no matter what Daniel promised, he'd have second thoughts, a crisis of conscience, and go.

"Daniel," he said softly.

Daniel's eyes opened, focused. "Yeah."

Jack opened his mouth to say everything he'd meant to say before he slept, and there was so much it choked up in the back of his throat.

"Should I go?" Daniel said quietly, in the same neutral tone he'd said _yeah_.

"No," Jack said. "Christ, no." Again the surge of words, concepts, too much and too important. "Daniel -- "

"It's OK," Daniel said. Gently now. He looked sad and tender; he looked, plain and simple, as though he loved Jack, unconditionally and unequivocally, and it really was OK, he understood, this was impossible, he was happy for what time there'd been and happy to wake up in Jack's bed and he'd ease out the way he eased in, he understood, he wouldn't make it any harder on Jack than it already was --

Jack reached for him, and wrapped around, pulling himself close because Daniel was heavier than he was now and wasn't expecting an embrace and so didn't surge forward to meet him, and one of his arms was still half-asleep and rubbery-numb and kind of floppy. He nuzzled in to Daniel's mouth and pressed, kissed. Daniel made an _oh god_ sound and opened to him, hungrily. His mouth was cool, wet, silken, intensely responsive. Jack kissed him deeply, searching and sliding with his tongue, stroking. Then he dragged his mouth around to Daniel's ear, engulfing the warm sleepy whole of him, and said, "This. This is what I was trying to say."

"That kissing's OK?" Daniel said.

Jack shook his head, and squeezed tighter. "That I love you," he said. "I love you, Daniel. I'm all in, here. Everything I've got. Everything that's left."

After a second, Daniel, finally, squeezed back. It changed the whole feel of him; it was a surge of relief that seemed to melt him and at the same time made Jack aware of every muscle in his body, the power in him, the size of him. How different he'd be, now that he was sure that what he wanted to give was welcome, and would stay that way, for as long as they had.

"Love you too," Daniel said, low and easy against his ear, the way you said it to someone you'd been with for years. Then he rolled on top of Jack -- an aggressive assertion of weight and muscle that had Jack groaning into his mouth, thrusting up into him, cupping and kneading his ass, hot and hard and hungry and this close to coming just from the surge of strength, the fleshy pressure on his dick trapped between their abs, the tight insistence of Daniel's dick between his balls and thigh, the hard chest against his chest -- and pulled his tongue back long enough to say, "Now, I can make you come like this, or I can demonstrate what 'all in' really means."

At that point Jack knew that arriving ahead of schedule was going to be his only problem for the rest of the weekend.


End file.
